I have two hours before my last flight home. I’m heading home from a week workshop in Washington D.C. The workshop was good, but it was what happened after hours that really made my week. The past three years have been hard between trying to build a family and my husband’s disorder. That is putting it mildly. My heart had hardened and became more guarded than Fort Knox.
A combination of time, some degree of acceptance, the kindness of others, and overwhelming support from loved ones have helped heal my heart and to let my guard down.
While in D.C., after dinners, I would walk with workshop attendees. One told me of that her husband of 20 years was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was dead six weeks later. She never thought she’d ever marry again or this was how her life would be. Her new husband brought kids into her life, which was another twist in her life story.
The following night, another gal talked about how her Mr. Right had gotten hit by a bus (figuratively), and if she ever did meet him, they would never be able to have kids due to an emergency hysterectomy.
Also while in D.C., I visited a good friend that is on bed rest at the hospital with preeclampsia for her second donor egg IVF (deIVF) baby. Everything is going well minus going stir crazy on bedrest. In a few weeks, she’ll have a second daughter. She looked so beautiful and pregnant.
Then all of the stories I follow through blogs.
The splendid stories you hear if you pause and listen. All of our stories are as unique as we are. More importantly, the triumph over these hardships is simply incredible. No matter how tragic life can be, there is still a lot of joy and hope to be had.
My next chapter may not be the one I wanted or expected. Life is always coming up with new twists and turns. I’m coming to terms with that and re-learning to enjoy the ride. I spent the last six-hour flight next to a bright-eyed one-year-old baby girl, and it was a delight instead of hours of sadness. It is refreshing to look at a baby as a positive rather than a reminder of what we cannot have. You don’t know you are okay until you are there*. And as my Cinnabon box said, life needs frosting.
*Quote from the movie The Hollars that I watched one of my many flights in the midst of many of movies.